The Distance Between Us
by Tutankhamun
Summary: Another day on the run. Another nondescript hotel. But tonight things are going to change for Amon and Robin... Enjoy!


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**The Distance Between Us**

_-by Tutankhamun_

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". . ." Robin opened her mouth to speak to her taciturn "watchdog" but closed it again without saying anything. That was just the way she was: she didn't say annoying, irrelevant things. She would wait until something important came up before using her soft voice to breach the eternal silence her partner lived in.

Amon glanced at her from the corner of his unfathomable eyes, not speaking, only watching. He did that a lot. It unnerved Robin because there was something in that look that said, _'I know what you're thinking and there's nothing you can do about it.'_ Robin didn't like the idea of him knowing what she thought. Not at all.

"You take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," he said, shifting his eyes back to the small hotel room they were confronted with.

"Ah. Thank you, Amon," Robin said with a small smile as she stepped through the door frame and into the space beyond. Amon followed her, carrying with ease their two dufflebags of belongings they had picked up since they had "died" in the collapse of the Factory several months ago.

Amon always let her have the bed whenever they couldn't get a room with two beds. It was part of his chivalrous nature, although he would never admit to it. Robin felt guilty when it happened, but she knew enough about relations between unmarried men and women in Japan to know that sharing the bed was out of the question. "Unless. . ."

"Unless what, Robin?" Amon's voice broke her train of thought as he set the dufflebags and his black trench coat on the bed beside Robin, who was facing the general direction of the window, not seeing a thing except that lovely, hopeless "unless" dancing before her eyes. Robin was instantly aware of how close they were. She sighed and closed her eyes. It had been a long day. If she just leaned back a little tiny bit she could rest her tired frame against his chest. . .

_'His strong arms would wrap around my shoulders, holding me protectively to him. I'd be able to feel his heart beating against my back. His chin would rest on my head, and we'd be a perfect fit.'_

Robin, are you all right?" the object of her fantasy asked her, his voice slightly sharp with worry. Robin had begun swaying on her feet, and he could see for the reflection in the window that her eyes were shut and her lips were slightly parted, forming an enticing picture. Amon shook his head quickly, willing the image to leave his mind. _'She's a child. If that's not enough, she's a witch! Stop it now, Amon.'_

Robin's eyes snapped open upon hearing his voice, her gaze in the reflection meeing his scrutinizing expression. She felt her cheeks tingling with a suppressed blush, and she quickly dropped her gaze.

"Yes, I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry you, Amon," she said, pronouncing the words with studied perfection. It had taken her a long time to learn Japanese, even though she had been born in Japan. Italian was her natural language, and she still had to translate things from Japanese to Italian in her mind before she could respond to conversations around her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired, I guess," Robin offered in way of explanation, turning around to face Amon.

It turned out they were even closer than Robin had anticipated. When she turned around, her nose brushed against the dark material of his shirt. Startled, she gasped and jerked back, nearly falling, but a quick hand grabbed hold of her flailing wrist and halted her fall.

Robin let out a breath, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you," she murmured.

Instead of releasing her immediately as Robin had expected, Amon kept a firm grasp of her wrist and lowered his face until they were inches apart.

"A...Amon. . ." Robin stuttered wide-eyed as he stared intensely into her face.

"Are you. . . Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, his voice and expression unreadable.

Robin nodded shakily. "Yes." Then she decided to risk a small joke, if only to create conversation. Mustering up a tiny, uncertain smile, she said, "You don't need to kill me; I haven't been consumed by my powers yet."

His eyes widened and he jerked back as if he had been electrocuted, letting go of her wrist in the process. Her heart sank. "Robin–I–It's not... I didn't mean...!" Amon was speechless. _'Is that what she thinks? That I'm only interested in her health if it means I get to kill her? Is she afraid of me?'_

Robin reached out to him, her face in pain. "Amon–no! I'm sorry–It was just a joke..."

Her hands caressed his cheek, calming his fears. Cool fingers treaced meandering paths down his rough face, igniting rivers of fire in their wake. Was she using her powers on him! Amon blinked rapidly, trying to find his equilibrium. Wait, she was saying something over and over again...what was it...?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. . . . ."

Over and over again she said it. Sorry for what? For using her powers on him? If that was so, then why wasn't he a pile of ash right now? Was the fire he was feeling some other sort of fire that her teasing fingers had awakened deep inside him? Was she apologizing for something else?

"I only meant it as a joke, Amon. Please don't be mad. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

A joke? So she wasn't using her powers on him? Then where was all the fire coming from? Amon knew he wouldn't like the answer.

_'How could this child–this witch child–make me feel like this! What is she doing? What is her secret? Why her?'_

Amon knew one thing, and one thing only as those fingers continued to stroke his face: he had to nip these feelings in the bud or else God only knew what would end up happening.

Forcing himself to focus on Robin's upturned face, Amon composed himself into his usual, closed expression. "Jokes are usually funny, Robin," he said, his voice like steel. Robin instantly dropped her hands and looked at the ground, her figure a picture of misery.

Amon let out an inaudible sigh. "Let's get some sleep."

In the middle of the night, Robin found herself awake and unable to sleep despite the soft, alluring pillows. Frustrated, she propped herself up on her elbow, holding the sheet to her chest. She still slept in the nude, and Amon had gotten used to it, even thought he wasn't exactly thrilled with it. For his part, he wore a pair of black pajama bottoms and nothing else. Getting ready for bed was one of Robin's favorite parts of the day. In fact, early on in their time together, Robin had discovered that what everybody back in the office speculated about was true: all Amon's clothes really _were_ black. From her vantage pont, she could see the dim outline of the couch beneath the window, and she assumed the lump was Amon's sleeping form.

She watched him for a while, hoping that the rhythmic movement of his chest would lull her to sweet slumber, but her mind still wouldn't rest. It kept replaying the moments when he had caught her before she fell and his face was so close to hers. It was just like the time when he had saved her from being Hunted by showing her the secret exit down the well. She was hastily climbing down the slippery stairs, whereas he simply leapt and landed lightly on his feet, leaning towards her. He slipped a piece of folded paper into her elaborate hairstyle, and then. . . Then he had cupped her cheek, bringing their faces only inches apart, and she thought he was going to kiss her. She had _wanted_ him to kiss her. Her faced burned with the memory.

_'I shouldn't be thinking like this,'_ she scolded herself mentally. _'Amon is my partner. He's ages older than me. Besides, he hates witches. I don't understand why I have to have these feelings for him of all people!'_

Realizing that watching Amon was only aggravating her sleeplessness, she got up, wrapped a sheet around her nude body, and walked into the adjacent bathroom for a glass of water. She made sure she closed the door all the way before turning on the light; she didn't want to wake Amon.

After her eyes had adjusted to the influx of light, Robin stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was an average face, perhaps a little more fairy-like than most with her delicate coloring. Her sea-green eyes went well with her wheat-colored hair, she thought. Nobody would know from her appearance that she was the strongest, most feared witch in existence. She was _dangerous_.

_'I'm also lonely. Dangerous and lonely,'_ Robin mused unhappily. _'Amon obviously doesn't want to be around me, only he has to so he can kill me as soon as I begin to lose it. Once that's done and over with, he can continue to live his life with no burdens.'_

With one last glance in the mirror, Robin turned off the light and opened the door. She stood there for a moment letting her eyes dilate widely to accommodate the sudden darkness, and then she saw that Amon's blanket had fallen off in the night and was lying in a heap on the floor.

Robin silently padded over to Amon's makeshift bed, pausing a moment to watch the moonlight illuminate and soften his normally sharp features. Wrapping her blanket more tightly around her like a toga, Robin bent down and draped the lost blanket over Amon's sleeping form.

Perhaps this wasn't the best course considering what happened next…

Amon was one of the most skilled hunters Solomon had ever trained. He was strong, agile, intelligent, and completely dedicated to his work.

And after several months of not Hunting, he was still in top form. That's why, when he felt the light pressure of the blanket suddenly cover him in the dead of night, he reacted purely on his reflexes.

Snapping his eyes open, the first thing he saw was a white, amorphous form hovering near his head. Lightening quick, he reached out and grasped a handful of the whiteness, pulling it down to his level. The white blob let out a small squeak of surprise, and pulled back trying to escape.

_**RRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP**_

Amon found himself the proud owner of a large, irregular swath of cotton material. The white blob was lying stunned on the floor with part of its disguise clenched in Amon's fist. Amon was quick to pounce on it, straddling it with his legs and pinning its arms above its head.

Surprisingly, Amon thought, Robin hadn't been awoken by all the commotion.

The ghostly figure stopped fighting, and Amon cautiously took one hand off and groped around in the darkness for the light.

"The light's by the desk," the blob pointed out helpfully.

Amon froze.

"...Robin?"

"Yes, Amon?"

Amon let go with his other hand and quickly ran his fingers over the blob's face, feeling the familiar delicate features.

_'Shit. . .'_

Concealing his acute embarrassment, Amon said, "Give me a minute to get the light."

Although he couldn't see it, he felt her nod her head. He rolled off her midriff and fumbled around the wall by the desk for the light switch. When he flipped it on he was astounded by the sight on the floor.

Robin was pulling herself up off the floor, trying to cover herself with the fragment that remained from the torn blanket. Amon could already see that there wasn't enough cloth left.

If Amon was less schooled in masking his emotions, he was positive his jaw would be on the floor. _'Skin. . .alabaster skin. . .'_ was all his brain could come up with as he saw more of her body than he had ever thought possible.

Tearing his gaze away and trying to act unaffected, Amon looked around for something to cover Robin up with. He spotted his blanket, again lying on the floor, and handed it to Robin, turning his back to afford her some modesty.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"What were you doing?"

"Your blanket fell off, so I put it back."

A pause. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I heard you cry out."

"I was surprised, that's all."

"I'm sorry."

A sigh. Then two arms circled him from behind, and Amon felt a slight weight as Robin rested her forehead against his back. "You said that already. I'm fine. Don't apologize. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I shouldn't sleep without clothes. It only leads to problems."

Amon found himself frozen for the second time that day. Robin had never displayed this degree of intimacy before! His pulse quickened as his mind wrestled with a single question, _'What does this mean?'_

Robin was even more shocked than Amon by her actions. _'What have I done?'_ she questioned herself inwardly, her heart beating frantically against her chest. _'Why couldn't I have resisted the urge to comfort him! Why, why, why?'_

Slowly, Amon turned around until they were facing one another. Robin stared up at him with her arms still wrapped around his middle, her eyes shining in the moonlight. Cautiously, he also put his arms around her slender frame, and bowed his head over her own. _'I accept my defeat at the hands of this woman,'_ he silently intoned, no longer resisting the strange and powerful feelings he had for this witch-child.

Robin snuggled deeper into the embrace and Amon felt the fire her fingers had created on his face earlier that day returning.

"Robin, I. . ."

She interrupted him, knowing that he wasn't ready to confess. "I think I'm in love with you, Amon."

Robin lifted her face from his shoulder to see how he reacted. His face was in shadow and she had no idea how her words had affected him. Then, slowly–_oh so slowly!_–Amon lowered his face until she could feel his warm puffs of breath against her face. He paused, blood thundering in their ears, and Robin stood waiting. She had said her part, now it was his turn.

_'Show me that you love me, even if you can't say it,'_ Robin pleaded. _'Show me that you don't care about age or that I'm a witch. Please, please love me, Amon, the way I love you.'_

Taking the plunge, Amon covered the final space between them and gently kissed her, his mouth moving slowly as he savored her innocence. She kissed him back, the best she knew how, nothing more than a return of pressure and warmth.

When he finished, she smiled at him tentatively, her cheeks bright red from her first kiss.

"Stay with me tonight?" she asked in a whisper.

"I'm always with you," he replied, his mind scrambled from the perfectness of the kiss, not sure if she was suggesting what he _thought_ she was suggesting.

"No, not like that. The bed. Stay with me?" she clarified hesitantly.

"Stay?"

"Yes. Stay."

Without another word, Amon took her hand and led her over to the bed. Robin felt lightheaded from giddiness, and her lips throbbed delightfully.

Robin sat down, tucked her feet under the blankets, and scooted over to make room for Amon.

Without hesitating, Amon slipped into the space beside her, reaching for Robin under the blankets. When he found her tiny waist, he pulled her towards him until he could rest his chin on her head. Amon felt Robin sighand get settled. With his arms around her, and her breath tickling his chest, Amon was, at last, complete.

_'There is no more distance between us.'_

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**R&R!**


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